


How to Make Friends in Awkward Situations

by FlipWizards



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Getting to Know Each Other, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:01:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22444486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlipWizards/pseuds/FlipWizards
Summary: On their first trip to the Hinterlands, Lavellan tries to make friends when she realizes she's traveling with a bunch of strangers
Relationships: Female Lavellan/Solas
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13





	1. Fans in Unexpected Places

**Author's Note:**

> I realized I had a lot of fun writing my last piece and decided I wanted to get some more practice with my writing so here's another early-game work with my Inquisitor.
> 
> This was meant to be a short, one-off piece similar to my last one, but it kind of ran away from me so I opted to split it into multiple chapters. This first one is entirely the beginning of Lavellan and Varric's friendship. Cassandra and Solas are next up, though.

The Herald of Andraste had been in the Hinterlands for barely a day when it occurred to her that she was traveling with complete strangers. Between the chaos caused by the explosion at the Conclave, fighting to prove her innocence, and trying to cobble together some kind of plan with which to move forward, she hadn’t really taken the time to process the fact that she had been entrusting her life to people she didn’t know at all, and would-presumably-be continuing to do so for the foreseeable future. Sure, she knew her traveling companions’ names and some basic info about them, but, otherwise, she had little in the way of connection to them.

Seeing as she was most likely going to be spending quite some time in the coming days, weeks, and possibly even months relying on them, she decided it was time to make an effort to do something about that.

While trudging along one of the Hinterlands’ trails, Lavellan took the opportunity to fall into step (or as much as an elf can fall into step with a dwarf) alongside Varric. Out of her three companions, Varric had made himself off to be the most approachable, having even made an effort himself to chat with her back in Haven. This made him the reasonable choice for her first attempt to make friends with her new traveling companions.

“So, Varric, I’m curious, how _does_ a renowned author such as yourself wind up caught up in the middle of all of this? Being held on lockdown by Cassandra, no less?”

The opportunity to talk about himself drew Varric’s immediate interest. Donning his trademark charming grin, he shrugged, “Well, Herald, any good author knows: to get the best material, you’ve gotta go where the action is.”

Lavellan could tell this wasn’t the whole truth, but he didn’t seem like he was going to be any more forthcoming currently and she was happy to let him have his fun for the time being. “Is that so? So, you thought the best way to get material for your next book was to throw yourself into life-threatening peril and hope you lived to write about it?”

“Hey, it’s worked out for me once before, who says it won’t work out again?” he chuckled.

“Right. The ‘ _Tale of the Champion_ ’,” she nodded. “That book you wrote on Hawke; I remember it.”

Varric’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait, you’ve read it? Wow, I had no idea it had reached all the way out to the Dalish clans.

“Not necessarily,” she shrugged. “We were trading for supplies with a traveling merchant and he kept going on and on about this book that everyone in Thedas was reading and how it was based off of true events. Eventually, I traded a nice pelt to him for a copy just so he’d stop talking about it. If anything, it just made him talk about it more. It was a good read; although, I admit I have some questions about some of the ‘true events’.”

He waved her off with a hand, “You and a hundred other people. Everybody’s a critic.” Brightening some, he leaned in and cocked an eyebrow. “So, does this mean the Herald of Andraste is a fan of my work?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” she scoffed. “I’ve only read the one, to be honest. Actually, I’m not even sure what kinds of books you write. Are they all ‘based on true events’? Or do you write other types of books too?”

“I write crime novels, mostly. I’ve got a series called _Hard in Hightown_. I’m sure I’ve got a copy somewhere I can lend you, if you’re interested. I’ve branched out a bit now and then. A bit of romance, too.”

Up ahead of them, Lavellan caught Casandra turn and look at them over her shoulder before quickly turning back to the road ahead. Filing this odd reaction away for later, she returned her attention to Varric. ”Romance, huh? I wouldn’t have taken you for that kind of author.”

Seeming suddenly abnormally sheepish, he shrugged, “Ah, well, it wasn’t really my strong suit. They were probably my worst selling novels. Plus, they were kinda…”

“Bad?” When he didn’t react, she guessed, “…graphic?” This made him shrug deeper and pulled a laugh from Lavellan. “Well, that certainly wasn’t what I expected.”

Varric made as though he was going to reply, but before he could, their party crested a rise they had been climbing and Lavellan spotted a small hut that looked as though it had seen better days since the mages and templars had brought their conflict to the region. Pointing it out, she called up to where Solas and Cassandra walked ahead of them.

“We should take a quick look in there, see if we can’t find anything left behind that the people down at the Crossroads could use.”

In a silent consensus, the other three turned and headed cautiously up towards the house, on alert for and mages or templars who may be lingering just out of sight.

When the group reached the small hut, they wordlessly split into pairs to investigate the hut’s two separate rooms. Lavellan and Varric stayed in the front room while Cassandra and Solas ventured into the back. The hut was a mess; the occupants had clearly either left in a great hurry, or had done so not of their own volition.

Lavellan examined the cover of a book that had been discarded haphazardly onto a desk. “Hm. ‘ _The Lusty Antivan Handmaid_ ’. Is this one of yours, Varric?” she called, casting a wry smile in the dwarf’s direction.

“Very funny, Herald,” he replied. He was preoccupied with nudging old crates and various debris aside with his foot, looking for anything of value that may have been hidden underneath.

Not one to shy away from mischief, Lavellan called back, “Are you sure? I think they’re a fan.” She picked up the book between thumb and forefinger by the cover and dangled it in the air. “It’s a bit… _sticky_ ,” she laughed. “You should autograph it for them. Here, catch!”

Before Varric could reply, the rogue launched the book across the room towards him with remarkable accuracy, a shout of laughter and fluttering pages following behind it.

“Agh! Nasty,” he shouted, ducking the tainted projectile. Despite the annoyance in his voice, a large smile betrayed his amusement. “You know, Trouble, for the blessed hero sent by Andraste herself to save us all, you sure can be a pain in the ass when you want to be.”

Lavellan simply continued to laugh. “Oh please, Varric. You think it’s funny. You’re not even hiding it.”

As if in unspoken agreement, Varric’s smile grew wider and he let out a belt of laughter himself. Waving a dismissive hand in her direction he relented, “Yeah, yeah, sure, you’re hilarious, Herald. But for the record, even I wouldn’t write something _that_ smutty. I do have some standards.”

“Oh, I’m sure.”

At this, Cassandra emerged from the other room with Solas not far behind her. Rolling her eyes at the Herald and the dwarf’s antics, she cleared her throat to get their attention and held out a handful of dried elfroot and a small poultice. “These are the only things of value Solas and I were able to find. I do not think it will be much help for the people in the Crossroads, but I suppose anything will help. I think perhaps we should continue on, Herald.”

Lavellan nodded and turned towards the door of the hut. On her way out, she felt a slight kick to her ankle, tripping her just slightly. Casting her eyes to her side, she spotted Varric walking next to her, a subtle grin plastered on his face. She returned with a light kick of her own to his backside, causing him to stumble forward himself. He recovered quickly and continued walking, but let out a quiet snicker as he did so.

As they continued on, Lavellan allowed herself a satisfied smile. At least now she knew she would have one friend going forward.


	2. What's in a Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan gets the chance to chat with Cassandra in the evening at camp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to update this weeks ago, but my two week trip to the UK kind of crept up on me and stole my lunch money so time kind of ran away from me a bit. Regardless, here's the next chapter.
> 
> Back when I started DA:I and made my Inquisitor I just gave her a name I liked without thinking and realized later that it sounded a bit human for an elf. Instead of changing it, I opted instead to simply devise my own backstory for it. This is where I'm gonna shoehorn that in. Enjoy
> 
> Obviously all Elven is sourced from the brilliant fenxshiral.

Lavellan managed to catch up with Cassandra later that evening as they were making camp. After a long day of scouting out supplies for the people of the Crossroads, they were setting up a tent in silence when, to the surprise of the both of them, it was Cassandra who broke it first.

“It is a noble thing, you know, what we are doing for those people,” she remarked; some of her usual sternness dropped away as she spoke. “With all the chaos since the Conclave, I do not believe many would take the time to do as much for those people as you have, if anything at all. It may not seem it to some, but I believe it is important, Herald.”

There was that name again. No. Not a name. A title. _Herald_. _The Herald of Andraste_. It didn’t sit right with Lavellan, and she didn’t think it ever would. 

She gave Cassandra a small, sheepish smile, “Thank you, Cassandra. Though, I like to try to give people the benefit of the doubt and hope that it’s something any decent person would do if they could.” The smile slipped some as she added, “But, for the record, you don’t have to call me ‘Herald’ outside of formal occasion. In fact, I’d rather _prefer_ if you don’t. Just use my name. Please.”

Cassandra cocked an eyebrow and nodded. “Of course, if that is what you wish, _Lavellan_.”

She chuckled lightly and shook her head. “No, I mean my first name, Cassandra. I do have one, you know.”

Cassandra paused for a moment, attempting to remember all she could of Leliana’s intelligence reports on the Herald before visibly blanching when she realized there was a certain piece of information she could not recall. Seeing this made Lavellan laugh a little harder. “You don’t know, do you? You didn’t think they just call me Lavellan back home, right? That would get pretty confusing really quick.”

The colour returned to the Seeker’s face in a red flush of embarrassment and what Lavellan thought was a brief flash of something else (guilt?) before replying “Well, there has been a great deal of reports I have had to read in the wake of-“ She was cut off before she could finish her defence.

“It’s okay, Cassandra,” Lavellan replied, dismissing her justification with a shrug. “I understand completely; things have been one big shitshow the past few weeks and I haven’t exactly been conscious enough for a full introduction through all of it.” 

She stopped in her work and leaned forward, extending a hand to the Seeker and giving her a large, comical grin as she clasped it with her own. She gave it a firm shake and said, “Gwen. Gwen Lavellan. Lovely to meet you.”

Cassandra gave her a strange look as they broke the handshake. “Your name is certainly…,” she trailed off, unsure of how to finish the sentence.

“Human?” Gwen offered. “That’s because it is.”

Tying off the final knot on the tent, she turned and sat herself on one of the logs they had dragged out of the brush to use as seating. After a moment, Cassandra, somewhat hesitantly, took a seat on the log across the unlit firepit from her.  
  
“I see. I do not think I have ever met an elf with such a human name before, especially a Dalish elf,” she replied, still puzzled.

Gwen shrugged. “Most haven’t. It’s not exactly a common practice in my experience.” She looked at Cassandra from across the firepit for a moment. “I can guess you’re curious. The short version of it is: I was named after a human. When mamae was a girl, a human saved her life, so, when she grew up, she named me after her as a way of showing her appreciation, I suppose.”

The Seeker still seemed a bit confused. “Saved her life in what way?”

Gwen hesitated for a moment, locking eyes with Cassandra. She wanted to build up trust with her new companions, but, given the subject matter of that particular story and Cassandra’s affiliation with the Templar order, was reluctant to tell a story that could stir up tensions between the two of them and possibly put her mamae in any kind of danger. Ultimately, she decided that sometimes, in order to gain trust, you have to extend it first. If she wanted to have a friendship, or at least a positive working relationship with the Seeker, she was going to have take the leap and give a little.

“My mother wasn’t born Dalish,” she relented. Breaking eye contact, she continued, “But, one day, my grandfather decided it was the safest place for her to grow up. The trip was dangerous. He didn’t survive it, but the woman he asked to help him made sure mamae did. She never forgot what that woman did for her.”

Cassandra’s eyebrows shot up. “It sounds as though they were running from something.”

Gwen drew a deep breath and cast her eyes to the empty firepit between them. She figured Cassandra wouldn’t be satisfied with such a vague story, so, rather than continuing to skirt the details, she ripped off the bandage. “My baela was a circle mage in Ostwick. They were going to take mamae from him. Separate them. Send her to a separate circle. He had already lost the woman he loved; he couldn’t bear to lose his daughter too. He asked a friend to help him escape with her to the Lavellan clan. He got injured and never made it all the way.” 

When Gwen had finished, she released what breath she had slowly and returned her gaze to the Seeker to gauge her reaction. Her brow had furrowed as Gwen had told her story, but she did not seem specifically angry at what she had heard.

After a moment, she spoke, “This woman. She was a templar, yes?” Gwen nodded. She paused again before continuing, her voice a bit softer than before. “To risk so much. To give his life. He must have loved your mother dearly. And the templar, she must have considered your grandfather a great friend to take such a risk.” Gwen could tell that the idea of her mother and grandfather being escaped mages from the Circle didn’t sit well with the Seeker, but at the same time, she seemed to appreciate the lengths her grandfather had gone to in order to hold on to what family he had left.

Sensing the odd turn in mood their conversation had taken, Gwen began working to steer them away from such a potentially problematic topic. She let another easy smile slide on to her face and gave a half shrug. “Anyway, that’s how I got the name. Can’t say some of the clan elders were exactly thrilled with the choice, but my brothers got nice, elven names, so they can’t complain too much.”

With the change in subject, the muscles in Cassandra’s brow and jaw began to relax and the slight tension that had settled dissipated. “You have brothers?” she asked.

Gwen nodded. “I do. Two of them. And you? Do you have any siblings?”

As soon as the question left her mouth, Gwen new she had made an error. At the mention of her siblings, Cassandra’s expression darkened and sense of melancholy rolled over her like a dark wave. “I…I did, yes,” she murmured. “A brother. But he…,” she trailed off, clearly uncomfortable discussing the subject.

Having just avoided a sensitive topic only to go careening directly into another one, Gwen jumped to divert to conversation again, blurting the first thing that came to her mind.

“We’re twins, you know.”

Cassandra looked up, startled at the sudden outburst.

“My brother and I. One of them, anyway. He and I are twins.” The cloud that had begun to form over Cassandra began to disperse as the topic turned sharply from her brother and she returned her focus to the rogue; Gwen carried on trying to fill the vacuum that had formed in the air between them.

“His name is Mahanon, but I just call him Han. Back home he and I are hunting partners; we watch each other’s backs out on the hunt and we train together. We’re honestly attached at the hip some days.”

In addition to lightening the mood, Gwen found that talking about her brother made her feel better as well. It was just dawning on her that after a life of spending nearly every day together, she hadn’t seen her brother-or anyone else from her clan for that matter-in weeks. A weight she hadn’t noticed had settled in her chest began to lift with each word, and as she talked a small smile began to creep onto Cassandra’s face. Before she knew it, she had begun recounting a series of ridiculous stories from her and Mahanon’s childhood.

“…So, after I finally managed to haul myself out of the river, I’m standing there _soaking wet_ and Han is nowhere to be found. We finally found him about an hour later. Up a tree. Wearing nothing but his bow and quiver. To this day we still have no idea where his clothes ended up.” Gwen shook her head a stifled a laugh. “The looks on the keeper and mamae’s faces when we got back to camp are certainly something I don’t think I’ll ever forget, though.”

Cassandra let out a warm chuckle. “That is ridiculous! How does one even do such a thing?” 

Gwen shrugged and joined her in the laugh, letting it run deep and make her eyes water slightly in a way she hadn’t since she had left home for the Conclave. “I was there and I’m not even sure myself. He has a talent for turning up in the most unexpected places.”

Cassandra just shook her head and the laughter continued on for a few minutes before dying away and they found themselves sitting in comfortable silence. They stayed that way for another few minutes before Cassandra finally spoke. “You and your brother seem to be quite close. Thank you for sharing your stories with me.” She locked eyes with the elf. “Gwen.”

Gwen couldn’t help the smile that found it’s way onto her face and said, “Thank you for listening. I know things started off a bit tense between us, but it’s been nice being able to share this with some one. I appreciate it, Cassandra.”

The Seeker nodded and the two women returned again to their comfortable silence. After several minutes passed, a rustle from nearby heralded the return of Varric and Solas from their search for firewood. Both walked back into camp with arms leaden with scavenged wood, Varric looking like the cat that got the canary and Solas still as difficult to read as ever.

The deposited their wood on the ground near the firepit. Varric remarked, “Looks like you two made fine work of the tents.” He gestured to the wood at his feet. “What do you say we get this thing going and see if we can do anything about making ourselves a half decent meal?”

Both women nodded in agreement. Gwen rose to set about helping build the fire. She found she had a bit more energy after her talk with Cassandra and as she stood locked eyes with the woman once more. They exchanged a brief smile for a moment before setting off to work.

It seemed to Gwen that, perhaps, making friends all the way out here wasn’t going to be so difficult after all.


End file.
